I woke up cold, sore, and with a terrible, pounding headache that felt like a sledgehammer hitting my skull. I was lying on the wooden floor of our bedroom.
The memory hit me hard, the body, the blood, Kyle’s cruel smile, Astor’s screaming face.
A choked sob fought its way out of my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I scrambled up and ran toward the bathroom, stumbling over my shaking feet.
I ripped off my dress and turned the shower on full blast. I needed to be clean. I needed the awful stickiness of the blood even the feeling of it was gone.
I scrubbed my skin until it was red and pink and blotchy. I didn't feel the pain; I felt completely numb, disconnected from my own body. The memories wouldn't wash away.
I sat down hard on the cold marble floor of the shower, pulling my knees up to
